


Listening With

by WhatADeer



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Blind Date, Class Differences, Cute, F/M, First Dates, Military Backstory, Modern Era, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:00:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29345517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatADeer/pseuds/WhatADeer
Summary: Zuko promised himself he would never end up back here, but now that his enlistment is over and he has nowhere to go, he may as well stick around. Uncle Iroh has planned a secret date for him tonight, so that's something to look forward to. Here's hoping his father doesn't find out.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

Zuko had promised himself he was never going to come back here. He lay on his bed, tossing a baseball mindlessly at the ceiling as he watched the analog clock out of the corner of his eye. He had half a mind to just leave early for all the good hanging out at his dad's was doing him. The ceilings were too high, the wallpaper too busy with embellishments. The mansion used to be home, in a way, but since his deployment, everything had changed. Zuko had seen the world differently than his father had ever intended. He had met people. He had hurt people. He had carried grief and guilt and pride and triumph, when before, all he had known was decadence and the stinging pain of disappointment. Five years since he had left home, since he had vowed to never join his father's insurance empire. Five years since he had enlisted. Now, his service was up, and here he was again, tossing that damn ball to himself.

Zuko tossed the ball a bit too hard, hitting the ceiling. The ball came crashing down; reflexively, he shielded his face. It landed by his ear and bounced off the bed, rolling across the floor. He peeked through his fingers at the clock. Six thirty. When had it gotten so late? Zuko swung his legs from off the bed and landed square on his feet. He didn't have to duck or anything- no bunk beds here.

In his adjacent bathroom, he raked water through his hair. That would be enough, right? Should he use gel? His hair had gotten shaggy in the months he had been home. He hadn't cut it to irritate his father, if nothing else. What would Uncle Iroh suggest? Zuko stood a little straighter.

"Nephew," he rasped into the mirror, voice pitched low, "the plant blooms perfect from the ground, as nature intended. As nature also intended, it is made more perfect through the brewing of a lovely tea."

He pressed his lips together. His hair was as intended, but could be better?

He snatched the pomade from the cabinet. He wrinkled his nose at the smell. Did girls really like this? He poked his head out from the bathroom, eyeing the clock again. Six thirty seven. No time. Zuko raked some of the product through his hair as he had done with the water, regretting his small rebellion in growing it out. It looked like he wore a helmet. Part it to the side? Zuko groaned and roughed it up with a towel. What would he say? How should he introduce himself?

"Zuko here," he tried, wincing.

Ew.

He heard the door open, followed by leisurely footsteps across the wood floor.

"Zuzu, not that I care, but dinner started ten minutes ago."

"I'm not going." Zuko shook his hair free of the water-logged towel and tossed it onto the rack. He checked the mirror. It would have to do. 

Azula leaned into the bathroom doorway, arms crossed. She raised an eyebrow.

"Well, where are you going?"

Zuko picked through products in the cabinet absently. He needed a new shirt; this one was spotted with water.

"Earth to Zuko," Azula called, waving her hands. She rolled her eyes. "What are you looking for?"

Zuko snagged the cologne from the cabinet. He sniffed it, frowned, put it back. Azula started snapping her fingers in his direction. Zuko huffed, "Your business. Funny, I can't seem to find it in my room."

He pushed past her, dragging his shirt over his head. It may muss his hair, but that was about as bad as it was going to get anyway.

"Cute. You know, dad isn't too keen on skipping family events…"

Zuko tore through his walk-in closet. Why was it so damn big? He just needed one shirt.

"What would mother say about you-"

"Shut up." Zuko picked a red button down. It wasn't too fancy, just a cotton blend, it looked like. His blind date had planned the outing itself, so he couldn't say to what standard he ought to dress. He should have asked.

His fingers fumbled on the shirt.

"So what, you want me to tell dad you're locking yourself in your tower? You're clearly going somewhere."

Zuko turned to her. She rolled her eyes again.

"Stop, stop," she ordered, pushing his hands away. Zuko had misaligned the buttons in his hurry. What time was it now? Was he late? Azula carefully fixed the shirt, and Zuko found himself relaxing somewhat. His sister was a pain, but at least she wouldn't make him look like an idiot.

"You can make a fool of yourself on your own. You don't have to look it, too," she mused under her breath.

"Tell him…" Zuko furrowed his brow. "Tell him I went out for a smoke."

"You don't smoke."

"How would you know?" His tone was defensive. Azula just looked at him. Zuko pushed past her again and dragged on shoes as he exited the closet. He checked the clock. Six forty five. He could still make it, probably. Maybe not. 

Azula watched him, amused, as he trekked out the door. He took the spiral stairs two and three at a time, not bothering to glance at the doorway to the dining room where his father was undoubtedly waiting for him. Instead, he took a sport coat from the coat rack and went straight for the garage, fully planning to speed to his intended address as though his life depended on it. He would probably get an earful when he got home, but perhaps not. His father didn't really care what he did anyway. If his sister somehow guessed the truth- very possible, she wasn't stupid -and told Ozai, however, he may well have ordered his death certificate preemptively. This whole thing was Uncle Iroh's idea anyway. If things went bad, it was on him.

The sentiment didn't stop his stomach from sinking as he drove down the road. He was supposed to be there by seven fifteen, and from the looks of it, he was headed to the suburbs. Middle class girl- not even upper middle. Would the financial background freak her out? Would she be looking to gold dig? He hoped the date wouldn't be over as soon as his car hit the driveway. He hoped she wouldn't judge him. Zuko glanced at his scar in the rearview mirror. He hoped.

Her house was nice as far as houses go. Two stories, probably three, maybe two bedrooms, the outside painted a pleasant sky blue. There were flowers in the front, though he couldn't tell what kind in the darkness. Should he knock on the door? Would that be too forward? He didn't want to seem like a jerk and just wait outside. What if her family was home? There were cars in the driveway, of course they were home.

"Nice to meet you, I'm Zuko. You look nice," he grumbled to himself. What if she didn't look nice? He should lie. Lying was best in that case. Zuko shut off the ignition and jogged up the path, the window catching his attention as someone abruptly stopped peeking out from behind the blinds. He had been watched the whole time he was sitting there deliberating. His face felt instantaneously hot. Hesitantly, Zuko knocked on the door, and waited.

"Your boyfriend is here," a male voice singsonged from behind the door.

"He's not my boyfriend," came a female voice, agitated. She sounded pretty, at least, and Zuko could relate to the annoying sibling thing. He supposed it could be her father, but no father he had ever known would tease him like that.

The door opened.

Zuko felt his eyes go wide as who he could only assume to be Katara stepped outside the house, shutting the door behind her. Clear brown skin and long dark hair, brilliant blue eyes and soft red lips. Her dress was to her calves, a dusty blue that complimented her eyes. It was a touch cold for a sleeveless dress, he thought, but she was beautiful in it. The yellow glow of the porchlight shined on her like a halo. Zuko had never been more glad to miss family dinner. He would miss dinner every night if it meant he could see this more than just once.

He cleared his throat as he realized he was staring, lowering his eyes respectfully. Katara had been staring too, probably at his scar. It always took some getting used to, he knew. Was she unnerved by it? Was she scared? Would she turn around with a fumbled apology and go inside? He supposed he wouldn't blame her. It took him a moment to register the manicured hand outstretched in front of him.

"I'm Katara," the girl said, smiling lightly. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Zuko found himself smiling back as he shook her hand. "Zuko," he answered.

"I hope you like music," she grinned, hopping down the porch steps. "'Cause I've got two tickets to La Traviata."

Before he could stop himself, the involuntary sentence escaped his lips. "I hate opera."

Zuko was about to backtrack, face red as a beet, when he heard peals of laughter.

"Well, lucky for you, you're in good company. Who cares what you're listening to? It's who you're listening with."

Zuko could only nod. He already knew he liked this girl, liked her energy. She was pretty, too, and hadn't seemed phased by his appearance. He walked with her to the car, regretting having taken one of the sports cars from the garage. To be fair, it was fastest, and it wasn't like there was much else to choose from. He thought she might ask about it, considering how nice he knew it was, but gracefully, she seemed to accept the display of wealth with no comment. Was that a good sign? Zuko opened the passenger side door for her, and Katara slipped inside.

"I can direct you," she offered.

"Great," Zuko said neutrally. He couldn't deny the disappointment at hearing about their destination. It was true, he did hate the opera, and preferred the straight stage theatre much better. He couldn't never keep up with what was going on, and didn't understand the appeal of watching a show in a foreign language. If not a kiss tonight, he would at least get a good nap in.

After they were buckled up, Zuko began driving. He did his best to keep his eye on the road as Katara chatted to him, throwing in the occasional direction. She revealed that she was a political science major at the local university, that she lived with her brother and father, and her favorite food was macaroni and cheese- of which she made the best, that was very clear. It wasn't until she started asking him questions that he began to get nervous. Zuko would have much preferred to hear more about her.

"What do you do?"

Zuko tightened his grip on the steering wheel, then relaxed it. "Ex-marine," he answered simply. "I might reenlist, I'm not sure yet."

"Oh," she hummed. "I wouldn't have guessed."

"The hair?"

There was that laughter again. It made his chest warm.

"It pisses off my dad," Zuko added, grinning.

"You don't get along?"

He could feel Katara looking at him, nothing but curiosity in her expression. Zuko sighed and consciously untensed his shoulders.

"You don't have to talk about it-"

"It's just another thing he can't control," he mused. "My dad...he has issues with that."

The silence was short lived and not uncomfortable. Zuko did his best to take his mind off of how exactly he had gotten his scar in the first place. The brewing negativity had no place here, not with her.

"It looks nice," Katara said quietly. "Your hair."

"I don't look like a bum?" Zuko was teasing now, shaking his bangs into of his eyes. Katara was smiling again.

"I've never seen a bum with a sports car."

The theater wasn't packed, but one could call it full. The couple found their seats, Katara leading the way. Apparently, she came here often, and had seen this specific show several times. Zuko found that endearing. Even if he wasn't particularly interested, it didn't mean he couldn't appreciate how much she seemed to love it.

"My mom always used to bring us to the opera," she said conversationally.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I wanted to be an opera singer when I was little, we went so often."

The lights began to go down as patrons settled in their seats. Zuko kicked his teeth as he thought of what to share about himself.

"...My mom used to bring my sister and I to the theater," he said casually.

Katara whispered, "Do you still go?"

Zuko paused, swallowed, and shook his head.

"Why not?" She pressed, "Did you hate that, too?" 

He was quickly regretting bringing it up.

"My mom, uh…" He stared squarely at the stage. "She went missing when I was twelve."

The stretch of silence was tense enough to shatter, though that could just be him. He had ruined it, hadn't he? They were having a nice time and he had to bring up his mother, of all things. He wouldn't be getting that kiss after all, or if he did, it would be out of pity. He'd never get a phone call, no second date. He just had to go and make everything about himself, didn't he?

"Zuko," she said softly. "Zuko."

He lifted his eyes to hers to only see compassion in them. Simply, emphatically, she said, "I'm so sorry."

A lot of people had said a lot of things over the years in regards to his mother. Apologies for his loss, reassurances she would be found, yet more that it wasn't his fault. Katara's was the first to really hit him. He believed her. Her words didn't slough off like water or weigh him down, they seemed to lift him up. For once, it felt as if someone really understood what he was saying- though he had only said but little. Someone was seeing him.

The violins began to swell as they gazed at one another, the curtains parting on the stage.

"...It's starting," Zuko murmured quietly with an upturn of his lips. Katara nodded and turned her attention forward.

"Right."

She shifted her hips in her seat, as though steeling herself for what was to come, prepared for anything. Zuko smiled to himself yet again. She really was cute. He watched her lean forward almost unconsciously, eager for the performance to begin. He could almost feel Katara beside him, poised with energy. He felt her soft hand on his arm, squeezing for his attention.

"Close your eyes," Katara whispered.

Zuko furrowed his brow. "Won't we miss all the...y'know," he gestured broadly to the stage. "What we came to see?"

A woman in front of them hushed them sharply. Katara ignored her, leaning into Zuko's side.

"We came to listen," she urged, her lips brushing his ear. "Trust me."

He could feel her smiling. He hadn't imagined spending this date with his eyes closed in the dark, but Zuko found himself compelled to obey. Closing his eyes with a sigh, he relaxed into his seat.

"Okay," he hummed. "I'm trusting you."

The music was loud enough that it was hard to hear himself think, the violins drowning out all the words trying to formulate in his mind. Instead, he thought of images, of Katara in her blue dress, of how angry his father would be if he knew where he was and, more importantly, who he was with and why. He opened his eyes as slim fingers interlaced with his. Zuko looked to Katara. Her eyes were still closed, a light smile on her lips as she heard the lead actress begin to sing.

"Close your eyes," she mouthed, squeezing his hand. Zuko bit his lip sheepishly and did as he was told. Her hand remained in his the whole performance, and from then on, all he could do was listen.

Zuko exited the theater in somewhat of a daze, Katara's arm tucked into his. She was chatting to him about the music, her favorite parts, how the performance compared to others she had seen and heard. He was fixated on her, of course- on her gentle weight, on the warmth of her pressed into him, on her lips as they shaped her words. He watched her slender throat, watched her eyelashes flutter, watched her smile. He could watch her all day, if she let him. If not, he was more than willing to listen. 

"Were you bored?" Katara finally asked as they approached the car, asking as though she already knew the answer.

"It wasn't so bad," he granted to her knowing smile. "Best time I ever had."

The moon shone brightly above them, partially shielded by hazy clouds. It looked like it may rain. Zuko glanced at the stars overhead, then back down to Katara, haloed yet again by the lights of the theater awning.

"Well, lucky for you, I've got tickets to Beethoven's fifth," she said hopefully. "Assuming the best time you ever had can be replicated?"

"Oh, absolutely," Zuko said seriously. "Great things may come only once, but there's no sense in waiting around for them to show up on their own."

"That's...wise," Katara said thoughtfully.

Zuko shrugged. "It's something my uncle would say."


	2. Table Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Zuko returns home, his father has words.

He was right. There was no kiss for him that night. To be fair, he hadn't tried, although he had entertained the idea. Zuko hadn't wanted to interrupt her for anything. He just wanted to listen. And listening, as it was turning out, had its rewards, because next week, he had yet another date. On the way to his own home, he had found himself humming along to the overture of La Traviata, replaying Katara's laughter in his mind. She was so...he didn't have words for it. He had never really been good with them. Regardless, it had been a long time since he had felt so lighthearted, and even longer still since he had had something this exciting to look forward to. Next week.

It wasn't as though he had anything to do between now and then, but Zuko hadn't wanted to seem as desperate to see her again as he really was. As it was, he currently had no job and no prospects, other than the high standard, low hanging fruit his father was offering: a position at the Fire Nation Health Insurance Cooperation. Azula, he knew, stood to inherit most if not all the company. He had forfeited that when he joined the service. Maybe he would attend university, like Katara. He knew his father would like that more than the nothing he was doing, at least. He had no clue what he would study, though. It made him a little sick to think of how he only seemed to be able to do what he was told, and poorly, at that. 

In any case, if he was ever going to impress Katara's father- she had only mentioned her mother once, and he knew better than to ask -he would have to get his life together, and fast. She had seemed to like him. She seemed to like him a lot. Hopefully, after next week, they could see one another even more. Zuko took a breath. It was only the first date and he was already thinking about her family. With a sinking stomach, it occurred to him that if things progressed, he would have to introduce her to his family, too. He knew the kind of cruelty his father and sister were capable of, his father especially. They would do everything in their power to impede any relationship with an unapproved match such as this.

Zuko parked the car in its place beside his father's many others and returned the keys to the rack. He entered the house quietly, but there was Azula in the den, lounging with a bowl of ice cream.

"How was your four hour smoke break? By the way, Daddy wants you," she purred.

Zuko could kill her.

As he started up the stairs, she called after him, "He's in his office!" It was as though she had nothing better to do than to sabotage him. He knew he could demand answers from her, find out exactly what she had said, but it would be of no use. She would just lie and force him to implicate himself.

Zuko could feel himself scowling, and did his best to smooth his expression. Going in like he was about to face war would do him no good, even if it was true. Instead, he would do what Azula did. He would present what he needed to, and get out. He supposed Azula would play more, but the method needed some modification. He, unlike her, wasn't a sadist.

He knocked at the heavy, ornate oak doors to his father's office. At the muffled, "Come in," he turned the brass knob. There sat his father in his large leather chair, tucked behind an imposing mahogany desk. His father fiddled with a brass paperweight, a phoenix in flight, and gestured idly to a chair on the opposite side of the room. "Take a seat."

Zuko, ever the obedient son, obeyed.

"Beautiful night out," Ozai said lowly. Zuko nodded. "How was it?"

Zuko felt uneasy, his gut twisting at his father's slow, deliberate speech. He found himself gripping the plush chair beneath him. "Good," he answered curtly. He wasn't sure where this was going, but he could guess.

"You know, tobacco has been proven very harmful to one's health." Ozai continued, "Even more so when combined with other...substances."

Zuko balked. "You think I'm doing drugs?"

"I don't know what you're doing," Ozai retorted pointedly. "You've been a wild card ever since you returned home. Going out, missing family gatherings-"

"It was one night!"

Zuko bit his tongue at his father's expression. He knew he shouldn't speak out of turn, he had paid bitterly for it in the past. Zuko dropped his eyes as his father grit his teeth.

"Mai and her family were here tonight," he said sternly.

Zuko grimaced. He hadn't known that.

"Explaining your disappearance was most cumbersome."

The unspoken question hung heavy over Zuko. Where had he been? He couldn't possibly say. His father would lose it. But did he dare lie?

"...I'm sorry I missed dinner tonight."

"Speak up."

Zuko raised his eyes, instantly feeling cornered.

"I'm sorry. It wasn't my intention to disrespect."

Zuko felt small as Ozai chuckled darkly.

"Disrespect," he mused. "Disrespect. You humiliated me in front of my friends and undermined my authority over this household by parading yourself as a disobedient and unruly child."

He dropped his gaze again. The words stung, punctuated by his father's sharp tone. Child. It made him want to crawl under a rock. Ozai could certainly see him squirming there, was probably enjoying it. It made Zuko bitter, made him hate the man, made him hate himself for thinking he could be free of this. This was his life, after all. At least his father had yet to strike him.

"Zuko," Ozai chided, somewhat gently. It felt like a trap. "My son. You're a young man now. I was young once, I know how good it feels to...sow your oats, so to speak." Zuko flushed with shame. That wasn't what he was doing, not what had happened with Katara that night. "Mai is certainly tempted to try the same thing," Ozai went on. "However, she understands that she has duties to fulfill. Responsibilities to her family. For these, she sets her more worldly desires aside."

He was talking about it like the company was a religion. Zuko would have mentally tapped out if he could, but every lecture with his father seemed to feature some kind of pop quiz. Ignoring him would just make him angry. Maybe Azula could get away with it, but not him.

"At some point, Zuko, you will be expected to do the same."

Zuko lifted his gaze. "At some point?"

Ozai shook his head. "You are unfit at this time to be married. If running off with women and substances is what you must do, then so be it. Get it out of your system, so to speak."

Zuko blinked. What? He wasn't in trouble?

"However," came the catch, "you will stay out of the public eye with your shenanigans and do as I say. You are under my roof, remember that. Another stunt like tonight and I may well ship you off someplace myself."

"I want to go to university," Zuko blurted out. It would be better than working for his father, at least.

For once, Ozai seemed stunned. "Is that so? You've never expressed interest in higher education before." He sounded suspicious. Zuko swallowed.

"I...a lot changed while I was in the military," he said quietly, and that much was true. "I want to better myself. Make something of myself, like...like you did."

The last bit was more flattery than truth- his father had inherited the company from his grandfather -but it seemed to do the trick anyway. Ozai smiled.

"I would rather that than have you flounder about like a fool. Was there anywhere in particular you were thinking of attending?"

Zuko bit his lip. "I thought...the local school would be okay…"

Ozai's expression soured. Zuko was quick to explain, covering his tracks.

"And in my free time I could work with Uncle at the Jasmine Dragon. You know how old he is, he can't run that place on his own."

Also better than working for his father.

Ozai pursed his lips, tapping his index finger on the desk. A long silence stretched out, Zuko worrying his lip as he waited.

"...You wish to work and study among the common people," he commented idly. Zuko nodded. "You're right, he is old."

Hope flared in Zuko's chest.

Finally, finally, he relented. "So be it. You will live here, you will study business management, and you will work with your uncle in your free time. You will entertain Mai and her parents when called upon," Zuko felt himself frown, "...but you will not be expected to fully commit to her until we discuss this again."

Zuko sighed in relief. He didn't like the implication that he would have to commit to her eventually, but he could worry about that another time. In the meantime, he could plan for Katara, and his uncle, and the strange new path he would be starting on, one of deception, and hopefully, love.

He couldn't help but message her at least once before bed. He didn't want to seem clingy, even if he was, but an honest, "Thank you for the date," was in order. Was that good enough? Should he say more? "I misjudged opera," he typed. Zuko erased that. He didn't want to send a novel, or remind her of how rude he had initially been. "What are you doing?" He tried again. She was probably in bed by now, though. Any sensible person would be. "I think I'm going to start school," he typed. Would she even care? Again, he erased. In the end, he sent over a music note emoji, at first typed with a heart beside it that he deleted. He didn't want to appear overly invested. 

About a minute later, a message appeared. It was a smiley face. Did that mean she liked it?

"My brother could not believe your car," a new message arrived. "He was drooling."

Zuko licked his teeth. Money. How to talk about money.

"It's my dad's," he responded. Too quickly, he thought in hindsight. That made him seem entitled. 

"He's begging me for a car tour. I said you'd have to come to dinner first."

Zuko's mouth went dry. Was she serious? Should he ask? 

"I would like that." He texted. Zuko stared at the message for at least two or three minutes before sending. Moments later, came...a heart. 

"I'm excited for next week," he said honestly. He had never felt so compelled to share his feelings. Katara was just so responsive, unlike Mai. He had tried his hardest to date her, and for awhile, it seemed to work okay, but when push came to shove, she just didn't get him. She didn't listen or bother reading between the lines. Instead, she was dismissive and rude and made him feel inconsequential, like so many others in his life. She hadn't bothered to write him during his deployments, and when she did bother, her letters were short and to the point. He suspected they were coerced.

Katara, it seemed, was different.

"I can't wait," Katara responded.

"Do you play any instruments?" Zuko worked up the courage to ask. She liked music so much, it seemed in character. He wanted to know more about her, and if he could get her talking, he would.

"Cello," she punctuated with a violin emoji. So his intuition had struck true. "Wbu?"

Zuko paused. The true answer was no, but if he lied, she might ask for a demonstration. Being proven a liar would be worse for him, he thought. Eventually, he replied, "No."

In a flash decision, he added, "But I would learn one if you asked me to."

That was true, too. At this rate, he would do just about anything. She had him wrapped around her finger.

A simple, "Lol," was all that came of it, but Zuko hoped he had made her smile. 

It wasn't long before Katara announced she was going to bed and wished him sweet dreams. "Talk tomorrow?" She said. Zuko could hardly believe what he was seeing. Tomorrow? Tomorrow. She wanted to talk to him tomorrow. He was certain he was reading too much into it, that it really wasn't as serious as he was playing it up to be, but his heart was beating out of his chest at the possibilities. 

"Yes," he replied.

All the upset his father had wrought earlier was forgotten. He had managed to steer the situation in his favor, after all was said and done. Azula had lost. 

He would see Uncle tomorrow; he had promised to update the old man on the blind date as soon as he got the chance. He wondered how Uncle knew her family. Friends from his military days? In any case, he would be happy to hear that Zuko was finally coming to work for him after all these years apart, and perhaps even happier to hear about developments with his new romantic interest. Zuko knew he was happy to share them.


	3. Tea Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko spills the tea.

"Nephew!"

The air was beaten from his chest as Iroh clapped his back in a tight hug.

"Hey, Uncle," Zuko sputtered.

Iroh released him, more or less, his large hands still anchoring Zuko's shoulders. "How have you been? How did it go? Why don't you visit more often?"

"Well, uh, actually, I came to talk to you about that."

"About which?" The burly man put his hands on his hips, sharp eyes looking Zuko up and down expectantly.

"About...visiting," he began, rubbing the back of his neck. "I talked to my father and he said-"

"He's not shipping you overseas again, is he? You're an adult now, Zuko. You don't have to do as you're told."

Zuko smiled at the reminder. "I know, Uncle. Actually-"

"The moon may pull the tide, but it is the storm that drowns the ships!"

"I work for you now," Zuko blurted out. Iroh's eyes widened as a massive grin spread over his face. He wrapped Zuko in a hug again, jovially shouting, "My nephew! He's come home, and to work with me!"

Zuko felt his feet come off the ground a few inches. The patrons of the tea shop clapped, and Zuko flushed red at the attention. He was abruptly dropped, Iroh dusting off Zuko's shoulders and smoothing his shirt before rushing behind the counter. 

"You need- aha! An apron!"

Iroh rose triumphantly from the counter, a green apron in hand. He tossed it to Zuko, who caught it hard in his chest. He unfurled the wadded up cloth. "The Jasmine Dragon," it read. With an involuntary smile bubbling out of him, he slipped the apron over his head. It was less that he was excited to work as a barista, and more that he was glad to see his uncle so happy.

"Now," Iroh began, hobbling over to him again. "Sit down, sit down," he urged. Zuko obeyed, guided into a booth. Iroh sat opposite him. "Tell me how it went last night."

Zuko blinked. "With Katara?"

Iroh slapped his knee. "Of course with Katara! She's lovely, isn't she? What did you two get up to?"

Zuko went pink and fumbled with the hem of his apron under the table, embarrassed at the thought of him and Katara being up to things. "Well," he said quietly, hyper aware of the patrons on either side of them, "she took me to the opera."

"Wasn't she beautiful?"

Iroh sat with his hands cupping his face, fully engaged as though a school girl taking in gossip. Zuko couldn't help but smile, thinking back to that dress, to her slender fingers tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear.

"Yeah," he nodded. "She really was."

Zuko was brought out of thought by his uncle urging him to continue.

"How did you set this up?" He asked.

Iroh grinned, clearly proud of himself. Zuko was instantly worried.

"Katara is a regular at the shop. I simply encouraged her to give you a shot- and aren't you glad I did? What a fine match you will make!"

Zuko blinked. "Wait. You mean she comes here? Regularly?"

"Oh, yes," Iroh nodded. "She likes to study in that corner over there, by the window. I'd say she comes in…every day, every other. She orders the tea of the day. Excellent taste, I must say."

Zuko put his face in his hands. He couldn't see her every day! She would think he was stalking her for sure. What if he said something stupid and she didn't want to go out Friday? Worse, what if she decided she wasn't interested, only to attend the date anyway? He would spend the whole time fawning over her, practically, making a fool of himself and she would just ignore him. What if she came to the tea shop and he spilled tea on her like in some movie? What if he got her order wrong?

"Zuko? What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he sighed. There was nothing to be done, at least. "It's nothing." He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath, glancing out the window. He spotted a flash of blue and long dark hair. Zuko scrambled to his feet.

"Is that her?"

He couldn't be here. He couldn't be here! She was here! They were here together and they weren't- together! Wouldn't it be awkward? Wouldn't be uncomfortable? She had already promised to talk to him today, wouldn't seeing him be too much?

"Morning, Iroh," Katara greeted with a small wave, toting a laptop and a messenger bag. Today, she wore a fuzzy blue sweater, dark jeans, and boots. Zuko would have hidden if he could, but he was standing in the middle of the shop, in plain view. She had already seen him, obviously, and he looked like a mess.

"Good morning, Katara. You've met my nephew?"

Zuko sunk into his seat awkwardly, wishing more than anything that he could disappear. He wasn't ready to see her again, not like this.

Katara smiled warmly. "Of course," she giggled. "Long time, no see."

Zuko felt Iroh kick him under the table. He mustered a smile back. "Y-yeah," he stammered. Where did that come from? He didn't have a stutter. "How are you?"

Katara pulled up a nearby chair. "Good! You mind if I sit?"

"Not at all!" Iroh invited. He looked like a kid on Christmas morning.

Zuko thought he might die.

"You work here?" She asked, indicating toward the apron. Zuko's mouth was dry.

"I, uh-"

"It's his first day," Iroh said easily. How could he be so calm? "I have customers to attend to, so you two just keep each other company, alright?"

Iroh smiled- what a snake -and abandoned them, abandoned Zuko to make a fool of himself. He wasn't ready. He hadn't prepared.

"Oh, Iroh? Could I get the usual?"

"Anything for you, my dear," Iroh replied.

Katara set her laptop aside and made herself comfortable, slipping into the other side of the booth Iroh had just vacated.

"So, I don't think I've seen you in here before," she said casually. "What made you want to work here?"

"My uncle," Zuko answered quickly. "He's old, you know, and I figured he could use some help."

Katara smiled. "That's nice of you. My Gran-gran needs help, too, sometimes, with cleaning and such. I go over there occasionally."

Zuko nodded. She was so at ease, it made him want to relax, too. If he thought of her as Katara, just Katara, instead of a girl he liked, it made it easier.

"Your uncle is really nice," she added. "He talks about you a lot."

"What?" Zuko blinked. "What does he say?"

Katara grinned. "Stories, mostly. Turtleducks and the like."

"Oh, no."

She laughed, and Zuko felt warm.

The two of them sat together for what had to be at least an hour before Katara had to open her laptop and get to work. As it turned out, Iroh had shared a lot of stories from Zuko's childhood. Frankly, he was surprised Katara was willing to go out with him at all; he was a massive brat. She hadn't known what to expect, she had confessed, but she trusted Iroh's judgement. Zuko couldn't help but be grateful.

The remainder of the day, Zuko only half listened to Iroh's instructions. His uncle didn't seem to mind, and was content to let Zuko wipe down the same table for ten minutes if it meant Katara had his remaining attention. She wasn't doing anything particularly interesting, of course. Zuko just thought she was pretty, and took the time to think of things he might say to her when he got the chance.

When she finally left, she waved to him and his uncle before she went out the door. Zuko wasn't expecting her to text him tonight- he had seen her all day, after all. However, when his phone vibrated in his pocket to alert him to a message, he couldn't help but be pleased to see it was from her.

"I know I said I had Beethoven tickets, but if you want to switch things up, I understand."

"What do you mean?" Zuko replied. His brow furrowed. A message appeared.

"I just thought we could do something else, maybe on Thursday or Saturday."

He blinked. He hadn't expected her to change her mind so quickly. Did she plan to go with someone else?

"What did you have in mind?"

Dread twisted his stomach. She had a different date planned for that night. What had he done? Was it something he had said? Was he too weird today? Did he give her too much attention?

"How does the State Fair sound?"

"Thursday night?" He asked. It was one day less he would have to wait, at least.

"I'll see you around six."

Zuko sent a smiley face, although he didn't feel it. He was glad they were doing something where they could talk more than in a concert hall, but the question still bothered him. What was she doing instead on Friday night? Was it some kind of emergency? Was she okay?

"Maybe she just doesn't want to go, Zuko," he grumbled to himself. "It's probably nothing."

The days came and went, and Zuko became a little more used to the sight of Katara in the tea shop. He wouldn't be able to enroll in school until the semester was over, so in the meantime, he intended to just...work. Having something to do all day other than avoid his father and sister felt good. It gave him purpose again, having people depend on him, even if it was for something as little as the occasional refill. Katara came in for a few hours most every day that week, just like Iroh had said. Zuko did his best to keep it casual between them. He didn't want to pressure her, enamored as he was, and he was preparing for Katara to keep her distance Thursday night. Something was off about it, though he couldn't say what. He didn't know her well, but she just didn't seem the type to reschedule like that, not unless something important came up.

The day finally came, Thursday, and Zuko was excited despite himself. He would have her all to himself, no laptop, no counter between them. He wasn't sure if he should tell his father he was going out. Ozai had said that he could essentially galavant to his heart's content, right? As long as he wasn't making a spectacle? A date to the State Fair was hardly a spectacle, he thought. And so, from his closet, he pulled a black and white flannel, one from his teenage days, and put it on over a red tshirt. It was fall, so it would be chilly. He figured he would wear jeans, too- he could be casual. Nevermind that the jeans were designer. She probably wouldn't be able to tell. Heaven knew he couldn't.

"Zuzu," came an unwelcome visitor into his supposedly private room, "Daddy has a proposition for you."

Zuko rolled his eyes as far back as they could go. "If that's true," he answered, "he can come to me himself."

"You're going to the fair tonight, right?"

Zuko whirled on her. Azula stood in the doorway to his bedroom, holding up his cell phone. She grinned.

"Ooh, who's Katara?"

"Give that back!" Zuko snatched for the phone, Azula dancing out of reach.

"Dad says you have to take me wherever you go tonight," she sang.

"What? Why?" Zuko was red with anger, his fists clenched at his sides.

"Your guess is as good as mine- but probably not, seeing how dull you are."

She tossed him his phone. Zuko caught it, seething.

"Oh, and I invited Mai."

Zuko balked. "You what? Why? Why would you do that?"

Azula put her hands on her hips and tilted her head as though the answer was obvious and she was surrounded by idiots.

"Because she's my friend, and hanging out with you all night sounds horrendous. At least Mai will get to know your new girlfriend, hm?"

The thought of seeing Mai again made him feel sick to his stomach, much less with Katara there. It was only the second date, she wasn't ready to meet Azula yet. He hadn't prepared her. She didn't like him enough yet to put up with her. And besides, what about her rescheduling? Wasn't he already on the fence with her anyways? What if she was considering her options elsewhere? Tonight was his night to really try and blow her away, and here was Azula, poised to ruin it.

"If you don't bring me along, dad will be furious," she added with a wicked, knowing smile. "Besides, won't he be pleased to know you're spending more time with Mai? I can even put in a good word for you." Azula winked.

"I'm not spending more time with Mai," said Zuko emphatically. "If she's going, she's going with you."

"But don't you think it's more efficient to carpool?"

Zuko looked at the ceiling and closed his eyes tight. This was so frustrating. He pointed to the door.

"Get out," he said simply. "We leave at five thirty or you get to walk."

The drive to Katara's house was unbearable. Zuko sat silent in the front, Mai silent in the back, with Azula talkative and awful beside her. Every now and again, Mai would pipe up to add something biting, but Zuko could guess she was just hurt. She didn't want to be here as much as Zuko wished she was gone.

"Poor people," Azula commented as they approached Katara's neighborhood. "Wow, Zuzu, I didn't know you had such," she giggled, "poor taste."

Zuko pursed his lips and said nothing. He had warned Katara beforehand via text, of course.

"My sister and her friend are coming. They're terrible. We'll ditch them as soon as possible," he had said. "I'm so sorry."

Katara had only replied with a thumbs up and, "The more, the merrier."

Zuko sincerely doubted that.

He parked the car outside Katara's house and exited, warning the two in the back to stay put. His temper was short tonight, and he hoped he could curtail his mood. He didn't want to take any of this out on Katara, not with whatever else she had going on.

He felt his shoulders relax when she slipped out the door, cozy in the same fuzzy, bell-sleeved sweater she had worn several days prior. Her makeup was light this time, mouth shiny with gloss, her hair pulled up into a ponytail and accented with a blue hair clip. Even though he was just as casual, he couldn't help but feel under dressed beside her.

"You look nice," he complimented. It came easier than he thought it would, nothing catching in his throat. It was true. Katara upturned her lips in a soft smile, though it didn't reach her eyes. Was he coming on too strong?

"Before we get to the car," he began, suddenly nervous, "those two are going to be mean. Really mean, okay, and I don't want you to listen to any of it. They're just trying to get to me."

"Seems like it's working," she said, tucking her arm in his and giving him a reassuring squeeze. "I can handle myself. Don't worry."

The car honked aggressively once, twice, three times. Zuko winced as Azula rolled down the window, "Zuzu, darling, we don't have all night!" Katara raised her eyebrows.

"Zuzu?"

Zuko only shook his head, and lead her to the car.


	4. Fair is Fair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second date.

"Are you two going to do that the whole drive?"

Katara squeezed his free hand as he clenched his teeth.

"It's a little insensitive, considering Mai is here and all. Mai, don't you feel slighted?"

Mai was red in the face, expression otherwise blank as Azula taunted her. Why she would go out of her way to torture someone she called a friend was beyond him.

"So, Katarina, how did you and my brother meet?"

Zuko knew she was being obtuse on purpose. She knew her name was Katara, probably knew they had met up on a blind date the previous week. The longer everyone in the car ignored her, the more obnoxious she got. So far, Zuko was grateful for Katara and her iron composure.

"Catbird caught your tongue? You would do well to speak when spoken to, you know."

"You would do well not to speak at all," Katara replied curtly. It seemed even her patience was at its limit. Zuko couldn't help but allow himself a small smile. Even he didn't snap at Azula that smoothly.

"Ooh, Zuko, does she do tricks, too?"

By and by, they made it to the fairgrounds, tall, luminous structures rising from the ground and looming over them. Carnival music played jovially in the distance, laughter and chatter surrounding them as pairs and groups passed by. Katara's hand remained firmly in Zuko's own as they walked. She was grounding him, keeping him calm. He could feel Azula and Mai staring at them, boring holes into his back as they whispered to one another. It was mostly Azula whispering to Mai, likely vile things that made her feel bad about herself. Zuko felt a pang of pity for her.

"Do you want to try some of the games?" Zuko asked, leaning into Katara to ensure she could hear him over the clamber.

"You gonna try and win me something?" She grinned as Zuko shrugged. "I bet I could win you something bigger."

Zuko raised his eyebrows. "Oh, really? Well, I don't doubt it. Is that an official bet?"

"What are we wagering?" Azula injected herself between them, arms on their respective shoulders. Zuko rolled his eyes.

"Can you two go to the funhouse or something?"

"How about…" Azula pursed her lips. A sly smile spread over her face. "Whoever wins at that game," she pointed to the nearest booth. It was a dart game, with balloons tacked to a wall. "Gets to ride the ferris wheel with Zuko."

Zuko scoffed. "And if I win?"

Azula shrugged. "You can go with whoever you want." She was bouncing on her toes with excitement, goading both of them. Zuko glanced at Mai. If he didn't know any better, he would say she looked invested. He turned to Katara. There was fire in her eyes.

"I love a good wager," she said coyly. Zuko wasn't sure how he felt about being bartered over like a prize, but if Katara was down, so was he. He put up his hands.

"So be it."

Glancing at the game Azula had selected one more time, he frowned. Wasn't Mai good at darts? Like, really good? She was in high school, anyway. If he remembered correctly, she played when she was agitated. She played often.

"Hey," he said uncertainly. "Do you guys mind if we play a different game? Maybe one that's more, I don't know, fair?"

"You doubt your lady love, Zuzu?"

He blushed. "No, I just-"

"Hey." Katara squeezed his hand, smile bright. "One of us will win, don't worry. Besides, it's only one ride."

Zuko found himself nodding, even though he didn't really believe her. He would have to, though. She was right. It would just be one ride.

Nevertheless, he was filled with dread as they approached the game. Zuko paid for his darts and went, decidedly, first. He would do his best, for Katara. He weighed the first dart in his hand. It was light, but had some heft to it. Good for throwing. His tongue in the corner of his mouth, he narrowed his eyes and, "Platypus bear!" Azula cried, right as he threw the dart. It skewed his aim terribly, landing the dart firmly in the ground.

"Not fair," Zuko retorted.

"Not fair," Katara repeated, shaking her head. "It doesn't count."

Azula rolled her eyes dramatically. "Ugh, fine. You two are no fun. Zuzu, try again."

"Best out of three, then?" Zuko had three darts left. With a deep breath, he readied his stance and tried again. Aim, reel back...throw. A miss. He huffed in frustration. Katara put a hand on his shoulder and he did his best to relax. He aimed again, and...a miss. There was no way he would win now. He turned to his audience.

"Do I even bother?"

"Yes!" Katara urged. "Go on! One more try," she encouraged. Zuko smiled at her. "Get this one, and I'll give you a consolation prize when I win."

"Okay," he chuckled. Zuko closed one eye this time and reeled back. One...two...throw. The dart arced through the air and pierced a balloon, bells ringing in celebration. Zuko whooped his victory, though neither Azula nor Mai seemed impressed. He couldn't care less about their opinion, though. The vendor offered him a piece of candy and he took it, offering the sucker to Katara. She accepted it, unwrapping the piece and popping it into her mouth with a grin.

Katara stepped up next, Zuko taking out his wallet. "I've got it," she assured, paying with a few bills out of her purse. Zuko nodded and backed off, Azula scoffing.

"It's not like it's a big deal, " she commented. "Can she even afford that?"

Zuko scowled at her and she folded her arms, glancing away. What was her problem? Then again, what was ever her problem? Katara took her four darts and wiggled her hips, as though she was about to putt at golf.

"Are you ready for this?" She asked, exuding confidence.

"We're ready," grunted Mai from behind her. Katara only lifted her eyebrows and turned to the game. 

"Okay, then."

Katara's first shot was a close one, the dart grazing the balloon just enough to pop it. She bit her lip through a smile.

"There's one," she said, trying not to be too excited. She took her second dart. After carefully lining up her shot, she let it fly. A bullseye. This time, she let herself jump a little; one more hit, and she would win, not to mention she still had one free shot.

"There's two," she said. Her third shot, Zuko put a hand on the back of her waist, making her jump in surprise. She dropped the dart.

"That counts!" Azula shouted.

"No it does not," Zuko bit back. The vendor picked up the dart and added it to his bowl.

"It counts," he said monotonously. Zuko rolled his eyes.

"Come on, that's not fair."

"Past this line," the vendor pointed out a yellow stripe on the counter, "it counts."

"I still have one shot left," Katara insisted. The vendor nodded. Katara licked her lips. "It's best out of three to win. Ready?"

Mai looked to the sky. "We're all ready," she sighed.

"Sorry," Zuko murmured by Katara's ear. She shrugged and rolled her neck.

"It's alright. I'm gonna make this one."

Katara took her aim, "That is, if you can keep your hands to yourself."

Zuko went pink. He watched the graceful arc of her arm as it launched the dart forward. Pop! Another hit. Katara pumped her arms in the air. "Yes! Beat that, Mai!"

"She can't," Zuko chuckled, "You got three out of three, so you win."

"Whatever," Mai huffed, pushing Katara and Zuko aside. She paid quickly, took her darts, and threw them one after the other. One, two, three, four, they all hit their mark as though it were no effort at all. Mai grabbed Zuko's hand and dragged him off.

"But-" Katara began to protest, but Azula was practically hanging off of her, all sickly smiles.

"They'll be back, princess. In the meantime, let's get to know each other, hm?"

Zuko was struggling against Mai's grip, trying to escape without hurting her. She was trudging forward toward the ferris wheel at full speed when finally, several yards from Katara and Azula, he managed to stop.

"Whoa, hey, what is this about?"

Mai glared daggers at him. "What is this about? Are you kidding me?"

Zuko could only look at her. Mai closed her eyes and pressed her fingers to her temples.

"Can we just get on the damn ride?"

Wordlessly, he nodded. He knew better than to argue with her when she was like this. Clearly, she was upset, and Zuko couldn't blame her. They had had many a bitter spat like this when they had dated in the past, not a few fights centering around mischief caused by Azula.

The ferris wheel was crowded, as expected, but it seemed Mai would prefer to make eye contact with every person they passed than spare a glance for him. Her fists were clenched at her side, gripping her sleeves, and probably pressing crescents into her palms. Zuko felt unnerved. It was only one ride, he reminded himself. Even if it was the worst five minutes of his life, at least it would be short lived.

They climbed into the rickety seat, peeling paint flaking at their touch and onto their fingers. Zuko swallowed as he made room for Mai beside him. He hadn't been this physically close to her in literal years. In fact, he was certain he hadn't seen Mai since they were eighteen and he told her he had enlisted. His face still stung if he thought about it too hard.

"This is block-headed, even for you," she spat. Zuko frowned. The wheel began to spin slowly, rising them into the air.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

She whirled on him, "Like hell! You knew what I was expecting!" She jabbed a finger into his chest, "You knew!"

Zuko put his hands up, "How would I know that?"

"You…!" Mai covered her ears and put her head between her knees, dragging her fingers at her hair. Zuko wasn't sure he had seen her so angry before. After a few moments, her shoulders dropped. Miserably, she sighed.

"It was Azula, wasn't it?" She asked, defeated.

"...What was Azula," he asked, a little scared of the answer at this point.

Mai spoke as if with great effort. "You didn't message me today."

Zuko blinked. Oh. Oh, that was terrible. Zuko furrowed his brow and shook his head. "I didn't."

Mai sat up briskly, brushing strands of black hair out of her face. She took a deep breath. She wouldn't look at him. "And you're on a date that I'm crashing."

"...Yeah."

"And you stood up me and my parents on purpose?"

This was more of a question. Zuko shook his head again.

"No. I wouldn't stand you up on purpose."

Mai sighed yet again and put a hand on his knee, leaning into his chest. Zuko couldn't help but try to recoil, blocked by the cold metal of the booth. After a few moments, he relaxed some. It was Mai, after all. She wasn't a stranger. He knew her, even if they were fundamentally different.

"You've always been so nice, Zuko," she said quietly, her breath warm on the side of his face. "I really thought you had changed."

Zuko frowned to himself. He had changed. He had changed a lot. If Mai couldn't see that, what was she seeing?

"Mai, I'm not-" Zuko took her hands and pushed her gently away. "I'm not the same person I was a few years ago."

"Well, clearly not," she said, affronted. "You're going around with just anybody now, aren't you?"

"This has nothing to do with you," he protested. He hadn't meant to shout, but the implication that Katara was just anybody riled him up. The direction she was certainly going with this line of commentary was sure to irritate him further. She was starting to sound like Azula.

"This has everything to do with me!" Mai cried, impassioned. It was rare to hear her so involved, but Zuko was in it now. He was glad, at least, she was engaging with him for once.

"How? How is this about you?"

"We're engaged! How could it not be? Does Katara know that? Does she know you're supposed to marry me?"

Zuko threw up his arms. "This isn't the dark ages! I never agreed to that!" He covered his face, uncovered it, exasperated. "Look, Mai, you're a nice girl," an embellishment, "why can't you just go for someone else? I'm clearly moving on, I'm not even inheriting the company anymore--"

"I waited for you!"

"You didn't even write!"

The ferris wheel stilled to a stop at the ground. Zuko hopped out, bypassing the door altogether. He was done.

"You left me," he began.

"You left the country! What are you talking about?" Mai was red in the face, her eyes puffy, though she didn't cry. "You abandoned me!"

Zuko stopped, his brow furrowed, biting his tongue. Her words struck him, the hurt in her tone giving him pause. Mai went on.

"You didn't care if I needed you here. You didn't even ask me what I thought. You just hopped on your white horse and took off to save the world."

"Is everything okay over here?" Katara stood between them, creating a tense triangle. Mai sniffed and stood tall. She looked past her.

"I'll find my own way home," she murmured. Mai stalked away, trembling. She glared at Azula as she passed, who scowled.

"Way to go, Zuko," Azula added, pushing past him roughly to go after her so called friend.

Zuko felt a pit in his stomach. He never knew he had hurt her so deeply. He thought he was through with hurting people, but apparently not. Katara took a tentative step closer, offering her hand. Zuko sighed. He took it.

"That sounded...dramatic," she said carefully.

"Yeah," he sighed again. He looked to her. Katara had taken down her hair, waves cascading down her waist. He liked it. Somewhat unconsciously, he caught himself reaching for it. It looked so soft. Zuko stopped himself before he crossed a boundary.

"You're beautiful," he said quietly, lowering his hand. Katara sputtered; he smiled in turn. "You are!" He insisted. Watching her blush and avoid his gaze lifted his spirits somewhat, though the guilt that stung with Mai's confessions weighed him down.

"Your sister told me about, you know. You and her. I take it that's over?" The way she looked at him, it seemed like it had better be over. Zuko nodded.

"Yeah. Yes. Completely. This is the first time I've seen her in five years."

Katara swung their hands between them, starting to walk through the fairgrounds. Zuko followed.

"Super mean of your sister to invite her. Very uncool to us, as well."

"I'm just glad they're gone," he sighed. "I have the keys," he checked his pocket. "--Yeah, I have the keys, so they can't ditch us. I assume they'll just call a cab or something. Maybe Azula will burn the fair down."

Zuko looked up at the sky, the towering rides and strings of lightbulbs casting shadows over the dirt path. With Katara beside him, it seemed like everything would be alright. Minutes stretched on in silence, somewhat unusual from his time with her, but not uncomfortable. He looked at Katara. Her eyes were downcast, expression carefully blank. Zuko frowned.

"Is something wrong? If it's something my sister said, you have to remember, Azula always lies." 

She shook her head. "It's not that," she said, kicking at the dirt. "Don't worry about it." Katara sighed. "I'm just thinking about stuff."

Zuko stopped, pulling her back to him. "You can tell me. It can't ruin the evening, not much worse than I have, anyway. What's wrong?"

Katara offered a small smile. Hesitantly, she answered, "It's my mom."

He decided to wait for her to continue. Her gaze dropped again and she started walking. Zuko followed in stride. "It's her anniversary tomorrow. I had gotten the days confused whenever I scheduled that date with you, so, you know." She took back her hand and tucked it into her pocket, shrugging. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"That's okay," Zuko said carefully. He was smart enough to put together that something had happened. Was she dead? He thought she must be, which would explain why she could so empathetically comfort him the week prior when he had opened up about his own mother.

"She, uh...it was a car accident," she said softly, with forced casualness. "The insurance company said her case was too serious to treat." Her mouth was tense, shoulders wound tight. She was looking past him, her tone dark. "They murdered her."

Zuko could only look, and listen. It was a deep pain she was expressing, one he could only understand a fraction of. His mother wasn't dead, at least. She wasn't in the ground. She could be anywhere. Katara's mother, on the other hand, was gone.

"That's terrible," he said. "I'm sorry."

"I was six," she added. "It was a long time ago."

She fingered a pendant on her necklace, a carved stone. "This was hers," she announced. "It's all that's left."

The silence was broken by laughter and the noise of the crowd, people shoving past them and weaving through. Katara eventually took his hand yet again. He was grateful.

"You know, a carnival was my parents' first date."

"Really?" Zuko asked. The warmth he had become so accustomed to was returning to her voice. She smiled.

"Yeah. He won her the biggest stuffed flying lemur in the joint and used it to propose."

Zuko's eyes widened incredulously. "Did that work?"

Katara laughed. "...No. But she went out with him anyway."

"You know," Zuko nudged, "you did promise me a prize if you won."

"I didn't win," she nudged back, sending them on a course veering slightly to the left.

"Sure you won. I just got kidnapped." He pulled her back to him when she began to drift, and she took the opportunity to lean into his side.

"So I owe you, is what you're saying."

Zuko shrugged. "A bet is a bet, no?"

Katara grinned. "Okay," she said easily, and before he knew it, she was closing the already minuscule distance between them, bringing her hand to his face and pulling him down for a gentle kiss. Zuko closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. Her hand was warm against his scar. He never let anyone touch it, never let anyone this close. His heart was beating out of his chest as Katara pulled away. He placed his hand over hers, keeping her fingers flush to his scar.

"How was that?" Her voice was hardly a whisper, a smile light on her lips. Zuko touched his forehead to hers.

"Good."


	5. Insurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko meets the family.

Things became easier after that. Simpler. Though no official conversation had been had, the two had a mutual understanding that they were, in fact, together. They went on dates, met up at the Jasmine Dragon, and talked late into the night. Zuko would appear on campus and walk Katara to her classes on occasion, or call her on his break. Weeks passed, things were good. 

At the end of the fall semester came the winter, and Katara helped Zuko schedule his classes. He was glad his father was allowing him to attend school with her, even if Ozai technically didn't know she existed. It felt like he had embarked on a whole new life with her, one that was exciting and, in a strange way, easy. They had their difficulties, of course. Adjusting to being in school again was difficult for him. He had never been an excellent student, just a good one who tried his best. He didn't mind all of the new authorities he was submitting to, however- it was just an extension of his father, though his professors were impossibly more understanding. Working with his uncle was a pleasure, and seeing his girlfriend so frequently reinvigorated him on a slow day. He was in school, he was earning money, he had someone to depend on who did the same of him...Zuko was happy. 

There was the occasional dinner with Mai's family, of course. He and Mai didn't talk much, and their parents didn't expect them to. Azula and Mai had had their own falling out, presumably over the State Fair fiasco, so instead of exchanging barbs as they would normally, they actively ignored one another. Azula seemed miserable. In Zuko's mind, she deserved it after everything she had done, but seeing her go weeks and months being so dejected made him pity her. The pity was short lived, though, because her bitterness made her cruel, crueler than usual. If Zuko was honest, he was worried about her. She had driven away her closest friend, and now she had no one.

Tonight was a special night for Zuko. Katara's father was home from the oil rig, where he spent six months of every year, and tonight, Katara planned to formally introduce him to her family.

When Zuko thought of family dinners, he thought of formal wear and passive aggressive announcements. Katara's family would certainly be different, though. To what level was he expected to dress? Business casual? That was always a good default, he thought, and Katara had assured him repeatedly to just be himself.

Zuko wore a button down and slacks, similar to their first date a few months ago. She had seemed to like it then, at least. Zuko smiled at the memory. They had been to three concertos since, each one kind of boring, but he was more than willing to accompany her. He took the opportunity to just be close to her and enjoy their time together. Listening to music in those dark halls made it feel almost as though it was just them in the crowd. Zuko could appreciate that.

Sneaking out of the house was easy now. His father didn't ask where he was going, as promised, and he just did what was asked of him in return. They had slipped into a pattern of avoiding one another, much preferable to their clashes when he was a teenager. There was no more vying for his father's attention, no more competing with Azula. He felt like he had genuinely grown, and with Katara, he was less paranoid, less anxious, less stressed. He had half a mind to move out, actually, and maybe, in a little while, Katara would like to join him. He hadn't breached the topic with her yet. To be honest, as excited as it made him, the prospect was equally frightening. Was it too soon? Probably. Their relationship was still very new, to be fair, and he didn't want to make her feel cornered. However, Zuko never felt better than when he was with her. He would marry her tomorrow if she let him, not that she would. Not that he would ask. The thought stuck with him, marrying Katara. Mai was the only girl he had ever dated besides her, and consequently the only girl he had ever considered spending his life with. Then again, he had been told from day one that he and Mai were a perfect and eligible match. As a little boy, he had thought about his wedding to Mai. They had even acted it out a few times for fun, had discussed flowers and cake flavors when they were teenagers between giggles and stolen kisses. Zuko had never let the thought sink in, though. It had always been a hazy dream of a future, one that was never quite complete. Even while he was deployed, he had thought absently that he would still eventually marry her, eventually patch up what was broken and set off on that merry path that had been planned for them. With Katara, things felt much more tangible. The fight he had had with Mai on the ferris wheel was the most real conversation he had ever had with her in all their years together and apart. He had known her his entire life, and still, he never really knew her, never could get past the first few layers of feeling. She never truly trusted him, and so their relationship was shallow at best and at worst. He didn't know how he felt about her confession. Honestly, he still thought about it.

"You didn't care if I needed you here," she had said. "You didn't even ask me what I thought."

The memory of that day haunted him now. She was right. He hadn't cared about her reaction to the news that he was going overseas to fight wars and possibly never return. He had just assumed she would support him, and when she didn't… It had stung, of course, but the wound hadn't been as deep as it should have been. He was able to shrug her off like an old coat and close that chapter of his life with moderate ease. Zuko simply turned his attention to becoming a soldier, a machine to execute orders. He supposed that somewhere in his mind, he expected home to stay the same while he was away. He had expected Mai to be there waiting at the airport when he finally returned, and when she wasn't, that was that. It was over. The wound had long scabbed and scarred by then, he hadn't heard from her in so long. From that point, he had felt nothing. He had walked through the motions of his empty life with no purpose, no real desire, and then, Katara. Katara had changed everything.

Meeting her was like waking up from a dream. Now, his life seemed to be headed in a direction. He couldn't quite see the end destination, but the ride was fun, engaging. It occurred to him now that maybe someday, if he ever worked up the courage, that destination could be a whole life with her. He was an adult. He didn't have to do anything his father said, he didn't have to live under his roof, he didn't have to obey his orders or fulfill his expectations of making an "eligible match". He could make a perfect one with Katara instead. He was free. And it was with this liberating thought in mind that he knocked on Katara's front door.

A young man answered, his eyebrows raised and his eyes narrowed suspiciously. He had long hair tied in a top knot, buzzed at the sides, and wore a band shirt and jeans. He only opened the door half way, barely enough to let Zuko see into the house.

"I think you lost something," he said. Zuko blinked. The man continued, "Your face, it's, you know. Missing."

Zuko mustered a tight smile.

"Not funny? My bad. Not funny," the man backtracked, opening the door all the way. "Sorry. Name's Sokka, nice to meet yooo- is that a Corvette? You're the Corvette guy?" Sokka called to the staircase, "You're dating Corvette Guy?"

"He has a name!" yelled Katara from upstairs. Zuko peered into the house, trying to get a glimpse of her as she raced down the stairs. 

Katara's house was completely unlike his. There was furniture in every corner, photos on the walls of their family. It was slightly messy, lived in in a way his home was too big to be. The old grey couch was covered in hastily folded afghans of all sorts of colors and patterns. A large, ornate quilt hung on one wall.

"You haven't let him in yet?" Katara asked incredulously. Sokka stepped aside as she came into view. He had never seen her in pajamas before. She wore a blue pair of sweatpants and a tank top, her hair braided down her back. No makeup today. Smiling, Katara took his hand and pulled him inside.

"It's freezing out there," she commented, reaching up to shake snow out of his hair. He hadn't even noticed it had begun to snow; Zuko brushed some flakes from his shoulder self consciously.

"You look nice," she said, sounding impressed. Zuko smiled. 

"So do you," he replied. "Very comfortable looking." Katara laughed.

"This old thing?"

Sokka rolled his eyes. "Get a room," he groaned, trudging to the dining room. "Dad, company's here."

"You and Suki are way gross around people," Katara protested good naturedly. "This is nothing."

Another man exited the kitchen, who could only be Katara's father. He was donning an apron, checkered oven mitts, and a wide smile. He offered a mitted hand to Zuko before he chuckled to himself and took it off.

"You must be Zuko. My name is Hakoda."

Zuko took his hand and shook it, mouth dry with nerves. Katara squeezed his hand and he remembered how to speak.

"Nice to meet you," he managed.

Sokka called from the dining room, "Can we eat now?"

"I apologize for my son," Hakoda went on, dropping Zuko's hand. "He isn't the best when he's hungry."

Dinner was a dish he had never heard of before, some kind of seaweed casserole with a seal-like meat. Apparently, it was a meal they had every time Hakoda returned from Alaska, and one they all loved. Zuko did his best to get past the texture and eat as much as he could manage, but it was an acquired taste for sure. Katara promised to make him macaroni and cheese later.

Hakoda told stories about life on the rig and sea beasts they had almost caught, or killed. He told tales of travelling ships and of refugees from wrecks that needed rescuing. He talked of those who had had accidents or died, of close calls he had had. Zuko sat quietly while Sokka and Katara laughed at jokes and gasped at surprises, simply taking in the dynamic. They asked rapt questions and pushed for more details; simultaneously, Zuko had never seen people eat so much while talking. At some point, the conversation turned to him, Hakoda being the one to ask, "Zuko, pardon me. What do you do for a living?"

Zuko sat up a little straighter. Katara put a hand on his knee and he took a breath.

"I work at my uncle's tea shop."

Sokka balked. "And you have a Corvette?"

Zuko smiled some, endeared. It seemed he really was enamored with his car. Maybe a tour was in order.

"It's my dad's," he said simply. "I'm just borrowing it."

Hakoda nodded thoughtfully. "What does your father do, then, Zuko? Must be lucrative."

"He owns a health insurance company."

Hakoda wiped his mouth with his napkin, looking surprised. "Oh?"

Zuko went on, "Yeah. It's called Fire Nation."

Katara went stiff beside him.

"...My grandfather started it," Zuko said slowly, frowning. Sokka was glaring into the corner. Hakoda gripped his fork.

"Did I say something wrong-"

"Well," Hakoda announced, clearing his throat. "That was some good food if I do say so myself." He stood, the chair squeaking across the floor.

"Zuko, thank you for joining us."

Zuko blinked, struggling to his feet. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but Hakoda was offering his hand again. Zuko took it. This time, Hakoda's grip was hard and distinctly unfriendly despite the man's carefully polite expression. Zuko furrowed his brow and took his hand back, opening and closing his fist to make sure it still worked. "Thank you for having me," he said vaguely, suspicious. Something had just happened to change the entire atmosphere of the evening, and it was somehow his fault. Nevertheless, one thing was clear: he was not welcome in this house.

"I'll...walk you out," Katara said, her voice empty. She avoided looking at him, sparing a somewhat panicked look for her father instead. Hakoda nodded to her and before Zuko knew it, he was being guided to the door. Katara was practically pushing him out before long, but as she tried to close the door, he stopped it.

"What's going on?"

"You should really go home," Katara insisted softly, putting her whole weight behind the door. He didn't let it close, though it was shoved another three inches closer to his face. Zuko didn't know what it was, but this felt final somehow, like they were turning a bend. Or maybe like they were going off a cliff.

"Katara, wait," he pleaded, but her eyes were closed and she wasn't listening. For once, she had stopped listening. The door slammed shut.

Zuko could hear muffled shouting from behind the door. If he pressed his ear to it, he thought he might even be able to hear Katara crying. He was completely blindsided. What had he done?

Zuko stood there for several minutes before he did what he did best. As he was told to do, Zuko got into his car and drove home. The car felt dirty somehow, like it's connection to his father made it unclean. He suspected this all had to do with his father, everything negative in his life always did. He had only said he worked in health insurance. What did his father's job have to do with- Zuko put his head on the steering wheel at what felt like the longest red light of his life.

Health insurance. Katara's mother was murdered by health insurance. Apparently, Fire Nation Health Insurance.

Zuko had half a mind to crash the damn car.

Katara wouldn't answer his messages, no matter what they said.

"I'm not my dad, I swear."

"I don't have anything to do with the company anymore."

"Please tell me what you're feeling."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."


	6. Regrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko and Katara have a talk.

Katara didn't come into the tea shop the next day. Zuko waited, loitering just past closing time, even. She wasn't answering her phone. Iroh had suggested giving her space, but Zuko didn't understand what good that could do when he hadn't done anything wrong. There was nothing to forgive him for. Still, he felt he had betrayed her somehow. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he owed a lot to his father. Zuko was not a self made man. His father paid for his education, his phone, his housing, his food, the clothes on his back. All of his insurance and amenities were covered by him, too. He was entirely dependent. Even his time in the service was somewhat of an illusion of freedom, just time away, like a vacation. It hadn't been fun, of course, but Ozai had referred to that period of Zuko's life as playing pretend more than once. Had he really changed all that much? Had he really grown, like he was so proud of before? How could he say he was his own person when his life depended so heavily on his family?

Zuko traced the outline of his scar. He was marked by this past he had, marked by his heritage of entitlement and privilege. Was that not what this mark was? Was this not a branding that bound him to his father? He could still feel the burning on his face when he thought about it too hard, could still hear the echoes of his own screams for Ozai to stop as Azula laughed in the background.

No matter where he ran or how completely he severed his ties with his family, there was no running from his mark. A dark part of him feared, even to the depths of his soul, that Katara would see it that way, too.

He didn't know what he was doing here. It was late, almost midnight. Katara clearly didn't want to see him, and he had nothing he could say to make this any better. She had been ghosting him for days, avoiding the coffee shop, taking different routes to classes, ignoring his calls. Zuko rested his head on the steering wheel. He should just go home, he knew, but at home, there was Azula, and she would jab at him for sure. He didn't have the patience for her, and there was no one else he wanted to see. Who was he supposed to ask about this? Mai? And Iroh would be heartbroken to hear that he had finally messed up. Uncle adored Katara. Every time he asked about her, Zuko could only shrug and say nothing, meanwhile keeping his eyes trained on the window for a glimpse of her coming in. At this point, he felt himself get hopeful any time he saw a brunette. It was pathetic.

He couldn't stay here. He was being creepy, he knew that. He either needed to work up the courage to knock on the door, text her, something, or he needed to leave now. Zuko glanced at his phone. His thumb hovered over her name. What would he even say? I'm sorry my dad has a weirdly direct connection to your mother's death, I didn't know? His father hadn't heard her case personally, didn't make the call, but Katara was blaming him anyway. Was that really fair?

"Zuko?"

He heard a knock at his window. He looked up, flushed, and shouted, "I was just leaving!"

Zuko fumbled with the keys. He couldn't believe he had been so stupid, so selfish, as to come here. She needed time. She needed time and he was disrespecting her. How desperate could he be as to bypass her comfort for his own indulgent anguish?

The door opened, and Katara slipped into the passenger's seat. Zuko froze.

"Wanna go somewhere?" Katara asked quietly. She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. Zuko paused to take her in. She wore sweatpants and a baggy shirt, pajamas, it looked like. There were circles under her eyes.

"...Are you sure?" His tone was careful. He had never seen her like this.

"Do you want to go or not?" She snapped, eyes ablaze. Zuko swallowed and nodded, turning his attention to the ignition and turning the key. He had already established for himself that he had nothing to say, and she didn't seem to be looking for comfort from him. He began to drive. Katara folded her legs in her lap on the leather seat and closed her eyes, her hands gripping the hem of her shirt. She wasn't even wearing shoes.

Minutes passed in silence. Zuko listened to her even breathing, glanced at her still form out of the corner of his eye. Even like this, she was still beautiful, raw and on edge and radiant. He didn't have a particular destination in mind and it didn't seem she did either, the two of them just going in wide circles around her neighborhood. After awhile, it almost felt peaceful, like they were in the concert hall again, just the two of them experiencing one another.

"I was there," her voice was dark. "My dad had gone to the vending machine and I was the only one with her. She didn't even look like herself anymore, her body was so--" Katara stopped herself. She took a deep breath. "I was afraid to see her like that. I didn't want to be there, I just wanted to go home."

Zuko turned yet another corner, his brow furrowed. "Katara," he murmured. She continued.

"I was playing Sokka's gameboy and when I looked up, she was…" Katara leaned back in the seat. Her voice was empty. "My dad was only gone for five minutes. The machines were screaming and I was being hauled out of there by nurses before I understood what was happening. I didn't even get to say goodbye."

Zuko sat with her in the silence. He slowed the car to a stop on a random street in the darkness and turned off the engine, turning to her. "Katara," he said levelly. There was more to what he was feeling than just her name, but that was all he could manage to formulate into words. Here he was with this amazing, capable, strong, beautiful woman pouring her heart to him, and all he could say was her name.

She stared out the window into the snow. "For so long, there wasn't a face for the people that took her away from me," Katara breathed. Zuko's breath caught.

"...I see," he said, frowning. So that was it, then. It really was over.

"I didn't mean to put you in that place," she explained, voice almost desperate. Zuko was having a hard time listening anymore, feeling himself drifting away from her, from how he was feeling. There was nothing he could do to fix this. There was nothing he could do to change the mark his father had left on him, both literally and figuratively.

"It's just, when you said you owned Fire Nation, I just-"

"My father," Zuko corrected, sounding colder than intended. "My father owns Fire Nation."

Katara nodded, eyes downcast.

"When you said that," she continued softly, "I didn't know what to do. It was like...Sokka was framing it like you were betraying me. Revealing yourself to be a traitor."

Zuko's jaw was tight, his grip firm on the steering wheel. His voice was rough when he spoke, removed. "Do you want to know how I got this scar?" 

He felt dead, like this wasn't real. It was a nightmare. An out of body experience. Zuko didn't wait to hear her reply, didn't look to see if she was paying attention. "When I was twelve, my father took Azula and I on a camping trip. We had never gone camping before. I had never even seen the woods," he laughed bitterly, "I was so excited."

Zuko grit his teeth.

"While we were out there, my father had strict rules in place. We were to stay within the campground. Well, I was twelve, and I wanted to prove to him how strong I was. So I wandered off on my own. I was found by a park ranger and got walked back. The ranger gave my dad this huge lecture on safety and kids and what could happen in the woods at night. Well, my dad...he was angry. I had humiliated him."

Zuko looked squarely at Katara.

"He held a hot iron pan to my face and called it an accident."

Katara was still, her eyes wide as though she had never heard something so horrible. He wasn't sure why he felt compelled to tell her the story. To get even with her, perhaps. He was hurt. She wasn't being fair. Zuko tore his gaze from her and glared into the street.

"...My father is a monster, Katara. I'm not."

He felt her warm hand on his arm. Zuko resisted the vindictive desire to pull away from her, a petty urge that hid the underlying want to give in and accept her comfort.

"I never thought you were a monster," she assured him. He kept his gaze trained on the road. He didn't believe her.

"Zuko," she said, vying for his attention. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his body tense as a spring. Her hand was tender on his face and he thought he might break then and there. She guided his chin toward her and Zuko let her, his shoulders dropping, his eyes soft on hers. He held his breath until his lungs burned.

"I missed you so much," he rasped, eyes misting. She smiled fondly at him, her thumb tracing his scar and brushing over his lips. Zuko kissed her palm. "I thought you were gone." He sighed into her skin, his chest tight with the anxiety that she may yet be. She hadn't said she was staying. She hadn't said they could make it past this.

"Are we done fighting?" He sniffed, laughing at himself. Where were all of these theatrics coming from?

"We were never fighting," Katara said conclusively, bridging the gap and pulling him close into an embrace. Her hair smelled like strawberry soap and her touch was warm. He held her tight to his chest, as tight as he could manage. Katara let him. She pet his hair and whispered sweet nothings; he had been so afraid of losing her. She had done so much for him just by being there, had changed so much in his life. He knew he could go on without her, of course he could, but Zuko didn't want to. He wanted to be with her every step of the way, whatever she chose to do. He would devote himself to anything she asked.

Zuko closed his eyes tight as fear gripped his heart. It felt like his throat was closing, like he couldn't breathe. "I think I'm in love with you," he whispered into her neck. His voice was thick with guilt. How could he do this to her? She had already said she felt betrayed, that he had somehow beguiled her into caring about him. She didn't need this from him. She didn't need him to pile himself on as another person to take care of like he was doing now. She was holding him like a child. In that moment, he was one, afraid and clinging to her as though scared of the dark. What was she going to say? Would she say anything?

"Hey," he felt her say, her breath rustling his hair. "Look at me."

Zuko brought himself to obey. Katara's expression was kind and doting. She took his hands in hers.

"I don't know if I'm there yet," she said carefully, but there was deep care in her voice. "But if you can give me more time, I…" Katara dropped her eyes, red dusting her cheeks. She met his eyes again, wide and honest. "I've never felt anything like this before."

Zuko nodded slowly. In a way, his heart was broken. It wasn't exactly what he had hoped to hear, but the way Katara was looking at him now made him feel exposed. It was a mounting feeling, as though something big was coming, something incredible and indescribable welling up in the space between them.

"I want to keep feeling it," she said decisively. "I don't want to let this go."

Zuko looked at their grasping hands, a slow smile forming on his lips.

"Okay," he said quietly. It wasn't the answer he wanted, but it was what he needed to hear. "Thank you for being honest with me."

He was so relieved to hear she wasn't leaving him that the gentle rejection of his confession was barely a sting. She was still invested. She hadn't said no, she said maybe. He could work with maybe.

Katara kissed him then, and it felt like a gift.


End file.
